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We kiss, our breath clashing. When I pull back, I hear him groan.
“Now fuck me like you hate me,” I beg.
EPILOGUE
PART 1
KEIRA
EIGHT MONTHS LATER
I climb the stairs and turn the corner. My hand wraps around the doorknob, but I don’t turn it. Instead, I take a deep breath and close my eyes, smiling.
This summer has been perfect. Beyond anything I could have imagined.
He married me in the springtime on the front porch with Westin as the officiate. The whole ranch was there and Maddie cried loudly into her handkerchief the entire time. The dining hall was decorated in bluebells and silk ribbons. Everyone ate there and we cut the cake in a white tent in the lawn under the pine trees. Music was still thumping and everyone was thoroughly drunk by the time Gerard and I stole upstairs.
After that, we sat down together and negotiated a contract.
A few nights out of the week, we set aside time to be completely immersed in our dynamic. Outside of that, I still call him sir and he still calls me his redbird, but the lines are clearer now.
It’s the perfect balance.
I blink, jerking from my reverie. The clock downstairs strikes seven and I slip into the bedroom. In the upper dress drawer, he laid out a black silk set of lingerie. I put it on and pad into his office to make him a cup of black coffee. The curtain is still open and I can see him walk through the barn doors with Shadow at his heels.
My heart flutters.
The coffee machine beeps. I carry the mug out to the chair in the corner I ordered for him as a surprise on his birthday. It’s dark leather, plush, and big enough he can sit in it and have me over his lap.
We’ve gotten a lot of use out of it. Especially on Sunday nights.
I set the coffee on the table beside it and fold a clean pair of sweatpants over the back of the chair. Faintly, I can hear him talking in the yard. My pussy tingles as I hurry into the bathroom and turn the shower on for him.
On the sink sits my collar, the leash attached.
I lift my eyes to my reflection and braid my hair so it’s out of the way. It took me a while to get used to the feeling of voluntary submission. At first, it had always been initiated by him. It’s a different feeling to act it out as part of our daily routine.
The collar slides over my throat. The feeling is so familiar now that my body reacts to it. Heat sparks deep inside and aches as I leave the bathroom and circle the bed. At the foot, in the wooden board, he attached a metal anchor. I sink to my knees and clip the free end to it.
And wait.
I hear his heavy footsteps on the stairs. The door creaks open, but I keep my gaze lowered. From the corner of my eye, I can see him take off his boots and deposit them into the hallway.
He walks by me and into the bathroom.
The faint scent of his soap fills my lungs. It reminds me of giving him oral because he’s always clean and smells like soap. Now the scent triggers a Pavlovian response and heat pours through my body and makes my toes curl.
I squirm, noticing I’m already soaked.
The door opens. I hear him put on the sweatpants I laid out for him. Then he’s beside me, and his fingers are under my chin. Lifting my face up, giving me permission to drown in his pale blue gaze.
My heart thumps.
“Good girl,” he says.
He has a soft, firm way of saying it that makes me feel so safe. I keep still as he sinks to a crouch and unhooks the leash from my collar. Then he takes my hand and leads me to his chair. I wait until he’s settled, my hands interlaced over my lower stomach.
I thrive in this environment.
